


Until the Plum Blossoms of the Heaven and Earth Bloom

by amelioratedays



Series: In Ancient Times [1]
Category: GOT7, JJ Project
Genre: M/M, Period Era AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-19 09:07:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5961811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amelioratedays/pseuds/amelioratedays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Period drama AU where Jaebum (Zai Fan) is a general and Jinyoung (Zhen Rong) is a prince.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. i-v

**Author's Note:**

> what happens when I have post-瑯琊棒 emo for the longest time.....

******i.**

Zhen Rong first sees Zai Fan when he was eight. It's in the midst of the bustle of drums, dance and song that he first spots the other boy standing on the side. The raven haired male doesn't look that much older than him but the way he holds himself (upright--clad in armour, sword in hand) seems all too mature for his age. It’s a stark contrast to himself; fidgeting in his seat, legs numb after sitting for so long.

Zhen Rong frowns, pulling at the fabric of his robes. It feels suffocating, layers and layers of silk weighing down his small frame. His mother lays a hand on his shoulder, shaking her head slightly as she readjusts the collar of his robes. Sighing, Zhen Rong sits back, fixing his posture as he glances over to the boy from before. Zhen Rong is eight when he forms his first coherent thought about Zai Fan-- _ ”too stoic, too still.” _ And when he recalls the older boy later that night, he likens him to a statue. “He doesn’t seem real.” He comments, “What kid would stay still for so long? He didn’t even smile once!” Eunuch Song only shakes his head, “You shouldn't say such things, Young Prince. That’s General Lin’s son.”

He hums a response perfunctorily, slipping under the silk blankets.

 

 

 

 

 

**ii.**

The second time that Zhen Rong meets Zai Fan is much more quiet than the first, soft winds billowing as the first snow of the year slowly falls. It’s been too long since he’s last seen the other male, time fading the memories in his mind. But he still manages to recognize him, manages to remember the distinct marks above the other’s eyelids--the cold aura that envelops the raven haired male. Zhen Rong catches a glimpse of the older male as he returns to his own palace from his mother’s. Black cloak shielding him from the winter air, Zhen Rong moves closer to the pavilion. The other male is still as quiet as he was six years ago, standing without movement as he looks at the plum trees in the palace garden. 

“They’re blooming quite late this year,” Zhen Rong says, soft voice breaking the silence. Zai Fan turns abruptly, coming to his knees as he greets the prince. Zhen Rong waves his hand, dismissing the greeting. “It’s too cold for formalities.” He says. 

“We should still abide by the rules,” Zai Fan responds without any variation in his tone. His voice, Zhen Rong thinks, is just as cold as he looks. “There are too many rules in this palace.” He mutters lowly, though the words still make their way to Zai Fan’s ears. 

“But, rules are still rules.” The young general states, voice amiable but firm. Zhen Rong huffs, straightening the sleeves of his robes. “There’s no use arguing with a rock.” He mutters, as he turns around, silk fabric fluttering slightly behind him as he makes his way back. Zhen Rong doesn’t turn back, and neither does he catch the glimpse of confusion that clouds Zai Fan’s eyes.

The bare branches of the plum blossom tree casts soft shadows on the snow ridden grounds. The buds of winter have yet to open--their fate has yet to blossom.

 

 

 

 

 

**iii.**

“Prince Zheng, I’m here to escort you back.”

“...”

“The sedan is waiting for you outside.” Zai Fan says, gesturing to the door. Zhen Rong frowns, gathering the miscellaneous objects he’s bought and making his way out the inn. “You sure know how to follow rules,” he says harshly. It doesn’t faze Zai Fan though, as the other only lowers his head and follows him out. “You secretly left the palace for so long, Consort Yue was getting worried.”

The mention of his mother slightly dissolves his frustration and Zhen Rong only sighs softly, “I...just wanted to see what life was like beyond the palace walls.” 

“Once you’re of age, I’m sure the Emperor would allow you to establish your own residence.” The older male replies, parting the curtain of the sedan so that Zhen Rong could enter. It's then that Zhen Rong thinks that Zai Fan isn’t akin to a stone at all--but more like jade. Cold, noble and when forged--it becomes sharp enough to pierce through skin.

Once he’s of age, he thinks, he’ll be able to leave the palace. It’s only natural, when his mother is only a consort (though still better than the Dame she once was) and he’s only a prince (not even a princep). He thinks about the Queen and her two sons, the Noble Consorts in the harem and their sons. It’s only natural, he reckons, that the role of the Crown Prince won’t be taken up by him.

The road back to the Palace is shaky and unstable, as with the thoughts in his mind--the thuds of his heart.

 

 

 

 

 

**iv.**

Zai Fan is appointed Imperial Guard at age twenty six. Zhen Rong is twenty five--still only a prince, and finally living past the palace walls. “Isn’t it ironic?” He asks Zai Fan one day, after he leaves the Royal Court, walking in sync with the other as the older male makes his rounds.

“Ironic?”

“That when I finally leave this place, it’s you who comes in?” Zhen Rong clarifies.

“I guess it is then,” Zai Fan smiles softly, voice gentle like the spring winds. Zhen Rong stops suddenly to face the older male, “When did you learn how to smile?” He questions.

“I...didn’t smile before?” He asks back, as if everything was reasonable.

“ _ Did _ you smile before?” Zhen Rong muses, taking another step forward down the palace grounds. “Do you think stones can smile?”

And the grains of sand reverse, flowing upwards as Zai Fan looks at the sight of Zhen Rong walking in front of him. It’s the second time, he remembers, that the younger prince had called him such a name and left him to ponder over the thought.

 

 

 

 

 

**v.**

“Has your highness ever thought about being King?” Zai Fan asks him on a rainy night, the sound of raindrops softly sound from the porcelain roof tiles above. There’s something seemingly odd with the older male today, but Zhen Rong doesn’t exactly know how to pinpoint it. Perhaps it’s the way that Zai Fan refuses to look at him, eyes fixated on the skies above, that dislodges something within his chest. It’s the first time in so many years that the other male has looked so lonely (so vulnerable) to him.

If it had been any other moment, Zhen Rong would have simply dismissed the matter--for even talking about the matter was a heinous act. But right now, this very moment, Zhen Rong doesn’t find the energy to walk his way around words. “Who doesn’t want to be King?” He responds, “But Father has already appointed Fourth Brother as the Crown Prince, hasn’t he?”

“Until the last minute, no one really knows how things will end.”

“Weren’t you the one who said ‘rules are rules’? I’m simply Prince Zheng, even if the Crown Prince doesn’t inherit the throne,” Zhen Rong sighs, “there are still so many Princeps waiting in line before me.”

Zai Fan doesn’t respond, gazing at the distant moon. “It’s not in my fate,” Zhen Rong states, though he isn’t sure he’s comforting himself or the other male. It’s a while before the older speaks, long enough that Zhen Rong supposes the other won’t respond at all. Zai Fan’s voice is soft in a way that reminds Zhen Rong of the silk cloak surrounding his frame, and he leans in closer to the young general as he listens to him say; “Then I guess we can only listen to the heavens.”


	2. vi-x

**vi.**

The morning court extends into noon, and Zhen Rong straightens his back, shifting his weight from one numb leg to another. There’s another wave of murmurs as the Crown Prince brings up yet another topic for the court to discuss upon. Nothing urgent, they all know, but just another subject to weigh upon Prince Yan’s shoulders.There’s really no need for him to be here, when he isn’t partial to either the fourth or the sixth prince. There’s a distance between them, and Zhen Rong can’t help but feel that no matter which of his brothers end up with the crown in the end--it won’t matter to him.

 

“Am I distancing myself too much?” He asks Zai Fan later, when the sun is on the verge of pillowing into the horizon and the day’s court is finally over. “I mean, this is a subject that strings together the entire nation, and yet, I can’t but feel that I’m only a spectator.”

 

“The Crown Prince and Prince Yan both have their flaws and strengths, but in the end, who receives the crown is up to his majesty.” Zai Fan replies, voice still seemingly monotonous--void of emotions, as if he’s simply analyzing the situation.

 

Zhen Rong smiles bitterly, “There’s really no use in worrying over the subject, is there? When we honestly have no say in it.”

 

“Your highness isn’t on anyone’s side.” Zai Fan states, more as a statement than a question.

 

“In my eyes, whether it is fourth brother or sixth brother who becomes king is unimportant. Either one of them can lead the country well.” Zhen Rong looks up at the darkening skies, a gradient of reds and purples adorning the heavens. “There’s actually little that they truly disagree on, it’s just that neither of them are willing to concede power.”

 

Zai Fan nods, grip tightening on the sheath of his sword. “Being a spectator isn’t exactly a bad thing. Your highness shouldn’t step into this puddle of murky water.”

 

 

 

 

 

**vii.**

Zhen Rong doesn’t see Zai Fan for eight days, nor does he hear any news from those he’s sent to inquire about the older male. And even so, life within the forbidden city continues. There’s another guard standing in Zai Fan’s place when Zhen Rong passes by, and he only stops long enough for a glance before he continues onto his way. Perhaps the other is on a task. And if he is, Zhen Rong knows better than to pry into official matters. So the best thing to do, is to not think too much of it, Zhen Rong concludes. So when he steps out the door of the royal court on the ninth day, he really doesn’t expect Zai Fan to be standing on duty.

 

It’s a rainy day, where the clouds overwhelm the capital in a loom of darkness. There’s a faint scent of grass in the air, as rain falls from the heavens. Ominous, Zhen Rong thinks, brows knitting slightly. He walks over to the older male, brushing the rain droplets from his court robes when he’s safely protected under the roof tiles.

 

“Your highness,” the other sounds, a rustle of fabric following his actions. Zhen Rong frowns, but he waves off the greeting. Others have said that there’s no use in playing the zither to the ears of an ox. Similarly, Zhen Rong thinks there’s no use in trying to dissuade a stone. Zai Fan rises, the fabric of his uniform stained from the muddy ground but he doesn’t seem to mind. There’s a slight pause as Zai Fan brings his hands back to his sides that Zhen Rong doesn’t fail to notice. Though it’s only a mere second before Zai Fan settles back into the state he was before--calm, stoic.

 

“General Lin, you’re on duty today?” Zhen Rong asks.

 

“Yes, your highness.” The other responds.

 

Zhen Rong frowns.

 

 

 

The rain continues to fall, as if washing away the sins of the palace, drenching the world into hues of blue. Yet even within this sea of rain, Zhen Rong can faintly smell the scent of metal--of  crimson. The points align one by one, and there’s a thud of something that dislodges suddenly within his chest. He turns abruptly to the older male, eyes wide. Zai Fan doesn’t reciprocate his gaze, turning around and walking within the drizzling rain.

 

The rain is washing away their sins, washing away the dried blood upon his bandages. The words of the court officials echo in Zhen Rong’s memories, and even the sound of the rain and thunder can’t seem to clear them from his mind.

 

 

 

_"Word says that an assassin tried to kill the Prince on his way back from Lan Zhou.”_

 

_“The Prince was safe but they only managed to wound the intruder.”_

 

_“It’s probably Prince Yan’s people.”_

 

_“Why wasn’t Old General Lin at his post then?”_

 

 

 

 

 

**viii.**

There’s a foreboding trepidation lining the skies as Zhen Rong looks outside the manor window. Today’s the Double Ninth Festival, and everyone was to enter the Palace to wash away the ashes of the prior year. It’s an inauspicious day in itself, but there’s something that tells Zhen Rong that this ceremony won’t be able to held until the end.

 

There’s a flurry of noise outside, the sound of horse hooves and the slowing of the sedan cart before one of the servants announce the arrival of his mother’s maid.

 

“Your highness,” she greets, voice frightened.

 

“Chun Mei? Why are you here?” He asks, brows upturning in confusion.

 

“Lady Yue asked me to come over and stop you from entering the palace today.” Chun Mei speaks in a hushed voice, rushing over words.

 

“Why?”

 

“Please don’t ask for a reason, Lady Yue just doesn’t want your highness at the ceremony today.” She says, though Zhen Rong ignores her words, heading towards the door. “Your highness!” she cries, running to block his way. “Prince Yan is going to take action today, you mustn’t enter the palace!”

 

The autumn winds sound from outside, and Zhen Rong watches as the golden leaves of the Gingko tree flutter to the ground. Everything’s ending, he thinks. He has to save him before he too, falls to the ground--breaking into shards.

 

 

 

 

 

**ix.**

“You’ve lost your mind!” Zhen Rong yells, as he finds Zai Fan in the same pavilion that they were sitting in just months ago. The other is still as calm as he has always been, face void of emotion (too cold, too desolate). “I haven’t,” Zai Fan responds slowly, as if they’re simply conversing on the weather. It both frightens and angers Zhen Rong, as he clenches his fist, barely able to stop his hands from trembling. “This is a crime of being,” he says.

 

Zai Fan doesn’t respond, merely nodding. He knows as well.

 

“Didn’t you say that it’s useless? That it’s up to father to decide who gets the throne?!” He shouts, voice hoarse from raw emotion. “Why are joining this worthless fight? There’s no difference in who gets the throne.”

 

“Whether it’s worth it or not is up to me, your highness.” Zai Fan says, still in a careless matter; as if he doesn’t know that the Crown Prince’s troops have already surrounded his own.

 

“You really think that no one knows?!” He questions, grabbing the collar of Zai Fan’s robes--forcing the other to face him. “Even my mother caught wind of it, how can father not know?! You’re walking into a snare they’ve set up for you!”

 

There’s a cloud of emotions in Zai Fan’s eyes that seemingly dissipates when he closes them and opens them again, looking into Zhen Rong’s.  “I know.” He says, “I’ve known from the moment that I let the Crown Prince leave Lan Zhou alive that Prince Yan wouldn’t succeed.”

 

“Then why?” Zhen Rong asks, voice barely audible as the tears fall from his eyes. There’s a searing pain behind his eyes, a sharp sting that overtakes his senses. “Why are you willingly walking to your death?”

 

“That’s my father, Zhen Rong.” He says with a soft smile, an image that burns into the younger male’s vision. It’s the first time that the other has called him by his name, though he knows it’ll also be the last.

 

“Weren’t you always the one to talk about rules?” he pleas, losing the strength in his knees as he grabs onto the silk of Zai Fan’s robes. “Then I order you not to go. I beg you.” He cries, kneeling in front of the older male. Zai Fan steps down with him, taking his hand into his own. “That’s my father, I can’t let him to die alone.”

 

“What kind of filial piety is that, Lin Zai Fan. You fool, you--” Zhen Rong states, his words being lost in the night air as Zai Fan pulls him into an embrace. “My father is set on his ways, I can’t let him go alone.”

 

 

 

_“This is a crime of being, my whole ancestry will be executed. I won’t be able to have a memorial tablet nor a proper burial. I just ask that your highness could think of me sometimes, so that the world would know that there once was a person called Lin Zai Fan.”_

 

 

 

_“Then that, to me, is already worthwhile.”_

 

 

 

 

 

**x.**

The winter snow seems to be endless, a white sea blanketing the forbidden kingdom. No one really remembers the amount of red that painted the palace walls just a few years ago--or rather, no one speaks of it again. Zhen Rong watches as the snow quietly settle upon the branches of the plum tree. The red blossoms remind him slightly of the red that splattered upon his white robes that one night, the same red that covered Zai Fan. Red--like blood, like love.

 

“The plum blossoms have bloomed,” he says into the empty air, warm breath vaporizing into the cold skies. He’s waited until the plum blossoms of the heaven and earth has bloomed, but he can no longer wait for the person he’s wanted to see them with.

**Author's Note:**

> a little drablet fic...i swear, i'll write the second part...so o n.
> 
> \- 
> 
> finally done with this little fic!! trying to translate phrases has been hell i'm dead


End file.
